The ED Tango (aka 50 Shades of Strachan)
by Fic Fairy
Summary: Powerful. Calm. In control. Or at least she was... until the sperm donor reappeared.
1. Chapter 1

It was the grandfather clock that woke her, doing its thing on the stroke of 4, and immediately, even before opening her eyes, she was assaulted by the memories and the sensations of the night before.

It had been a long time since she'd woken feeling this way.

She opened her eyes, and found him staring down at her, his hand gently caressing her hair. He smiled as he realised she was awake and leant in to softly kiss her.

It was a marked contrast to the style of their intimacy the night before, a million miles from it in fact. It felt incongruous and made her feel increasingly vulnerable. Not that she was about to admit it. She pulled away from him, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair, finding it tangled and matted.

His smile widened, "Do you have any idea how hot you look when you're freshly fucked?"

It was coarse, but actually she preferred him this way. It was truer to form, it was in her comfort zone, at least where he was concerned. And if he was reverting to type she was going to do likewise.

"Hot enough to get you hard again?"

He chuckled, "Never a problem." He raised his eyes at her questioningly, "Ready for round three?"

She thought momentarily. It was probably a bad idea, but, then again, they were a bit far down the road for her to suddenly turn coy. That horse had long since bolted. She looked at him challengingly, laying down the gauntlet with her eyes,

"I am if you are, arsehole."

xxx

They were at her house, in her bed. She'd had her doubts about that, but with Grace at his, and self-inflicted urgency being an issue after the initial opener in the store room it seemed like the quickest and easiest solution. After a few moments of clothing readjustment and hair tidying they'd emerged, agreeing to meet back at the house as hastily as they could possibly manage without drawing attention to themselves, and gone their own separate ways.

And of course, everyone had suddenly wanted a piece of her. Charlie, Dylan, Louise et al. Everyone suddenly had a question that demanded an answer from her and her barely functioning, recently screwed brain. She managed as best she could but with arousal still coursing through her body, the tingling sensations of his touch on her skin, she was barely capable of stringing a sentence together. How she survived the experience she had no idea; especially when it came to Charlie who she swore could look into her eyes and see everything within, and would doubtlessly have been unimpressed with what she was planning on doing with the rest of her evening.

She'd finally made it to her office and was just gathering her things together when she heard pretty much the very last voice she wanted to hear addressing her from the doorway.

"Cons, are you alright? One of the HCAs said he saw Sam getting rough with you in the corridor."

She turned, forcing herself to face Jacob and his concerned and protective expression, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at standing before him fully equipped with the knowledge that the Agent Provocateur knickers she'd been wearing that morning were now tucked in Sam's pocket leaving her feeling naked in more ways than one.

"I'm fine." She murmured.

Jacob crossed the room, placed his hand on her arm. She only hoped he didn't realise she jumped 50 foot in the air when he did so.

"Cons, you're not fine. You're shaking. I can feel it."

Dear God. Never was a truer word spoken. But then it's easy to be shaking when you've been brutally yet passionately fucked in a store room by a man you thought you'd long since left behind. Not that she was about to admit that to Jacob.

Instead, she looked at him, and tried to look measured and cool and calm and convincing.

She was fine. She just needed to get home. To Sam.

xxx

He was already there when she arrived, having already let himself in, and had his head in the fridge as he located and extracted a beer, before disappearing into the sitting room, lowering himself onto the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table and opening his drink.

She stood in the doorway, eyes raised, taken aback by his cheek even after all this time.

"Make yourself at home why don't you?"

He smirked, "I will." A beat and then, "Get naked."

Her stomach lurched at his words; at the arrogance, the presumption. Naturally it irritated her to the core, but it did other things to her too.

"Who do you think you are?"

He ignored the question, instead looking her up and down, undressing her with his eyes and then repeating his earlier command. She opened her mouth to argue but he didn't give her chance before making it a third time.

"Get naked, Constance, or I finish this beer, I get to my feet and I leave." His words were chosen carefully, and his tone nothing short of just plain patronising. Again her stomach flipflopped as her skin involuntarily began to tingle from head to toe. That said, she wasn't about to fall at his feet, and comply, not straight away. That wasn't how the game was played.

She wiped some imaginary dust from the dresser beside her, "Well maybe," she walked towards him, stopping when she reached him and taking a moment to place a coaster under the beer bottle he'd left on the coffee table, "that's what I want. Maybe I want you to go."

He grinned and then coolly, calmly and without waiting to be invited reached under skirt, moving his hand between her legs, removing it seconds later and holding his fingers up so she could see the wetness on them.

"I don't think you do."

Fucker.

She turned and walked away, aware of his eyes on her rear as she did so, and then stood, out of his reach, an obstreperous look on her face.

"You want me naked? You'll have to undress me." She sounded churlish, and childlike, but she knew he wouldn't expect anything less, and when she looked at him she saw he was smiling, albeit with a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

"You," he said with a slight chuckle, "are being a very naughty girl. And you know what I do to very naughty girls don't you?"

She snorted, somewhat amused by his atrocious porn film dialogue, but yet her skin was still prickling, and she could only imagine what Sam would find if he made any further attempts at diving up her skirt again. He must have sensed as much because when he spoke again his tone was harder.

"Get. Naked. Now."

She moved wordlessly back over to him, lowering herself down so she was crouched facing away from him.

"Undo my dress."

In the silence of the room the words jarred, and she wasn't surprised when he made no attempt at obeying the command she had barked. She looked over her shoulder at him and his raised eyes weren't exactly a shock to her. She took a deep breath and then tried as second time.

"Please will you undo my dress?"

He moved his hand to the zip, sliding his fingers into the back of the neckline as he did so, smoothing her skin and sending shivers down her back that she couldn't fight. Then, there was a beat, and he finally responded,

"Please will you undo my dress, what?"

A giggle escaped her lips that she just couldn't control. If she was honest, she liked it when he got a bit power crazy in the bedroom or indeed anywhere else in the house but this was a step too far. He'd obviously been cracking open the mommy porn with one of his other women and had clearly discovered a taste for it.

She laughed again, but couldn't help noticing the somewhat high pitched giggle had a hint of nerves to it, "You have to be kidding me? What are you expecting here?"

Without warning his hand moved quickly, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair, and then using his grasp to yank her head backwards. "I think you know, Constance."

The pain was intense, and jarring, but, if she'd been being totally honest the sensation wasn't unpleasant, especially when combined with the forceful, controlling way he'd hissed in her ear. She took a sharp intake of breath and then quietly murmured the words she knew he was waiting for hear.

"Please will you undo my dress... Sir."


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't expect her to say it. She could be submissive when she wanted to be, and doubtlessly got off on it, but crossing the line and acknowledging him that way wasn't a step he thought she'd be willing to take.

And the fact she had turned him on immeasurably.

"Good girl." He unzipped the dress with his other hand to avoid having to let go of her hair and then jerked her to her feet, no doubt causing untold damage to her scalp. She didn't seem to care though, not if the distinctly aroused gasp she gave was anything to go by. He gave her a second to collect herself and then playfully swatted her pert little bottom, "Now get over there and and strip."

With a expression on her face that was pure 'challenge accepted' she walked to the other side of the room, standing in front of the fire place and shrugged out of her dress so it fell to her feet. With her thong already in his pocket only her bra and heels remained, and it was look that only added to his ever growing excitement.

"You look fucking sensational." he murmured, wanting to acknowledge to her how good she looked. It wasn't all about being a bastard and he could sense from her that for all her bravado and hair tossing, she was feeling at least slightly awkward about the scarring on her abdomen from the events of the previous summer.

"Thank you." Her soft reply indicated she was grateful and that he'd called things correctly. Which was good. Because it was time to move on.

"Bra. Off."

There was no arguing this time round. She just reached behind hers back and undid the clasp, letting her bra fall off and into her hands before tossing it with a wry smile in his general direction. He deftly caught and smiled at her,

"Nice move."

"Well, I know the kind of clubs you frequent." she said pointedly, "I thought you'd like it."

Her words prompted a memory in him, of a time a few years previously in the States. It was a good memory, and one he was keen to come back to with her, but at that moment he decided the brazen little madam was being a little bit too cocky for her own good. He looked at her, effecting his best stern expression,

"Don't be so lippy, and," he downed what was left of his beer and placed the bottle down on the table, "get me another drink."

He watched with amusement as she seemed to falter and then, with a very definite wiggle to her walk, left the room, returning minutes later with a second drink for him and one for herself.

Even more cocky than he thought.

"I didn't say you could have one."

She handed him his drink, laughing as she did so, clearly finding more humour in the situation than he had intended. She'd obviously forgotten what it meant to be with him. What he expected from her in terms of attitude. And behaviour.

"Seriously, Sam?" she shook her head, putting her bottle to lips and as good as deep throating the contents which didn't exactly escape the notice of either his brain or his crotch. "You really want to go with the whole master and slave thing? You don't think it's a bit cheap?"

He laughed inwardly, but kept his external appearance stern, as he fixed her in a hard stare,

"This isn't about what I want, Constance." he said softly but firmly, "this is about what you need, and" he looked her up and down purposefully, taking in every last inch of her, "if you want to talk about what's cheap, I think it's standing in front of me..."

xxx

Their relationship hadn't always been that way. Granted, the sex had always been intense and passionate but during their hook up in Holby the balance of power had always been, at least in the bedroom, fairly equal. It was only later, much later, on one of his custodial visits with Grace, that things had ignited again and Sam had started to discover that Constance Beauchamp - and she was always Constance in said context - actually, contrary to outward appearances, had an incredibly submissive side to her character.

As ever with them, things had been set off by a row. It was late evening, and he'd finally managed to get Grace settled after a busy and exciting day in the Big Apple and headed back into his living room to find Connie modelling her best lemon sucking face and looking none too happy. He poured himself a drink and then sat opposite her waiting for the diatribe to start.

It wasn't long in coming, her lengthy rant about how much he'd spent on his daughter in FAO Schwartz earlier that day. Apparently he was trying to buy her daughter's love and turning her into a spoiled brat as a result. It was fairly standard. She hated the visits to bring Grace over and made it fairly obvious. It was clearly beyond her to have to bring the child she tricked him into fathering to visit him, and he knew full well she only did it to avoid him taking legal action against her. No matter how well the stays went and how much their four year old adored them, he always managed to do something wrong in her perfect eyes.

He'd had enough of it.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?"

It was a long way from the polite restrained way they usually spoke to each other and actually, momentarily, it had the desired effect as she fell silent, clearly shocked by his words.

Only momentarily though. It was Connie he was dealing with.

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

He got to his feet, rounding on her angrily, "Well let me tell you who I'm not. I'm not Sam Strachan, Darwin Ward Registrar anymore. I'm not your lacky or lapdog. I'm a Consultant in my own right and a highly regarded one at that. But beyond that, I am the father of your child and I'll talk to you however the hell I want." A smallest portion of his brain wondered if he was going too far but he was too into his stride to stop, "And may I point out to you that said child arrived at JFK decked from head to toe in Versace Junior, none of which was purchased by me so I'm not the only one who is free and easy with my spending and," he reached his crescendo, "as far as I can see, there's only one brat in this fucked mess we pretend is a family, and that's not Grace. It's you…"

Her hand had made contact with his face before the last word was out of his mouth, and he it hadn't come as much of a surprise to him. He knew from experience that it was her go to reaction where he was concerned. It brought back memories. Pretty good ones as it happened.

He reached out and grabbed her wrists, just in case she had any ideas about slapping him a second time, looked at her shell shocked face and uttered the first words that came into his head,

"You know what you need? A bloody good fuck."

To her credit she'd recovered quickly and snapped back without missing a beat, "Do you know where I'd find one?" But he was done with her shit. As he'd said, she wasn't the boss, not anymore.

"Try my bedroom. Get in there. Get naked and wait."

He wasn't even sure where the words are coming from but he was pretty convinced as to what the reaction would be. Connie Beauchamp wasn't the kind of girl who accepted instructions easily. Or so he thought.

So it was to his surprise that she silently rose from the armchair and disappeared leaving him wondering what the hell was happening. He was half convinced that she'd head to the spare room, pack her things, wake Grace and leave but at the same time there had been a look in her eyes as she'd departed that gave him a slither of hope that actually, the complete opposite would be the case.

He gave it five minutes and then, with some trepidation headed to the bedrooms, first checking in on his sleeping daughter, and then peering into the spare room where he found Connie to be demonstrably absent, and finally into his own room where what he discovered took his breath away.

His ex, laying on his bed, naked as the day she was born. Waiting.

It was the first time she'd ever done as he told her.

But it certainly wasn't the last.

xxx


End file.
